


Combat

by theroosnest



Category: Mean Girls (2004), Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, For a Friend, Song: The Archer (Taylor Swift), another character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28244307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroosnest/pseuds/theroosnest
Summary: You were adored. You were appreciated. Envied. The world wanted to be you. Yet none of that seemed to matter. All of it faded away in a matter of moments. Janis was right, Damian was right... Aaron was right. They all noticed you changing faster than the autumn colors. They all noticed your pride-filled stroll becoming stronger and stronger. You pushed people out of your path to be here. It should feel GREAT. should feel like everything you've ever wanted. Yet ... It doesn't. If this is everything you've ever wanted? Why did it matter so strongly in the first place?
Kudos: 3





	Combat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gleaminginthespotlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleaminginthespotlight/gifts).



> _**All the king's horses, all the king's men** _   
>  _**Couldn't put me together again** _   
>  _**'Cause all of my enemies started out friends** _   
>  _**Help me hold onto you - The Archer** _

Everything happens in a flash. Regina falls, the burn book. Words are said, people hurt. In a flash, you think what's next? Then what's next comes in the form of a bus. You follow, shouting for the blonde former queen of beasts to wait up. You shout it out. Trying your best to get heard. You NEED to get heard. When the bus comes though it's like a snap. And suddenly. The pink-colored daydream you were in ...goes grey. People give you glares. Hissing out 'go back to Africa.' and 'we thought Regina was bad.' Regina was bad... She was the worst. Or so you thought? Both of you wanted to be the stars of the show. Take control. Both of you wanted that win. That voice in your head screaming 'let me be heard! I'm the one you want'

  
You know it's coming. People are voting for you for spring fling queen. It's what you wanted — to be wanted. But not at this rate?? Nobody should be wanted at such a high cost. You find yourself shouting. Finally being heard. But when you say those words. You wish you were silent all along. " 𝙄'𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮! "  
A hero wouldn't declare themselves as a hero. A hero wouldn't walk through the doors acting like they were better than anyone else. They would expect everything to happen to them — they wouldn't allow themselves to hurt everyone who came in through their path like a hurricane. Mostly a hero wouldn't be so cruel it seems casual. But look at her. 'look at you now Cady jane. You've messed up.' you think as you pass through the halls of Northshore. Watching as people roll their eyes they look at you like you're a monster. You sure as hell sound like one. Does that make you one? Are you the kind with four horns? With bright red eyes looking at your every move? Are you the kind that feasts on fear and wanders the earth for its next prey? What about the ghostly kind. The ones that follow you and whisper "come out to play?" What you don't realize... You're none of those. Because to these people, you're the worst kind of monster.

**_You're human._ **

  
You were adored. You were appreciated. Envied. The world wanted to be you. Yet none of that seemed to matter. All of it faded away in a matter of moments. Janis was right, Damian was right... Aaron was right. They all noticed you changing faster than the autumn colors. They all noticed your pride-filled stroll becoming stronger and stronger. You pushed people out of your path to be here. It should feel GREAT. should feel like everything you've ever wanted. Yet ... It doesn't. If this is everything you've ever wanted? Why did it matter so strongly in the first place?

  
You have — had. You HAD friends. Had the world in the palm of your hand. And you didn't need to try hard. But something in you roared for more, pushed and pushed as your blue eyes turned grey, as the blonde in your red hair becomes stronger and stronger. Suddenly you cared more about being cold over being kind? Something you didn't think you'd have to go through. Yet you did. High school might have been claimed as a time for a change. But you don't think those people meant a complete change of personality. You don't think they meant — this. Nobody saw this coming.

You were fearless. Brave. Bold. People looked at you like you were the reason the sun shone and continued to shine. People looked at you and WANTED to be you. The jocks surrounded you like you were the center of their sweet attention, the freshmen wanted to be you. And it felt good. Better than good, it felt DAMN fantastic. People wanted to be your partner in class, they did your homework for you. And you enjoyed it. You wanted it to continue. Of course, people when they said your name it sounded like venom. It sounded like poison was escaping their lips. And maybe you shared some of the same poison. People assumed with you it would be a lifeboat. You, you turned it around and turned it into the Titanic, preparing for a storm where you're the captain. People around you failed so you could be comfortable. And you assumed it as them winning.

  
Gretchen and Karen were supposed to be cared for under your watch. Instead, though you made it so it was the same leader just a different song. And somehow you made things worse. They might have been untouchable, well untouchable with everything with the exception of you.

  
You're back to hunching your shoulders in the hall though, allowing people to brush by you like you weren't there. Those who do see you, scowl. They act like you're the sole reason their life is falling apart. And maybe you are. You take a piece of your blonde streaked red hair. And you tuck it safely behind your ear. Allowing the curl slowly fall flat from you messing with it throughout the day. The jazz kids can be heard playing the Death March in the distance. And you know that's a coincidence but you feel more like it's irony. You're back to lunch in the stalls of the bathroom. No people there to save you or allow you their trust. Only for you to break it like you would a promise.

You wander through Northshore High's halls like a ghost looking for its body for a few minutes. Left then right you take a deep breath before continuing through the halls. And at that moment. You realize something — you are a ghost. The abandoned spirit of the Cady you used to be. Prenorthshore you wasn't like this, she was adventurous, didn't care what other people thought. What happened?? The bright bold jungle roots you used to carry — Scattered across the Chicago landscape. And even if you tried picking them all up. It would be too far gone. Your lions, who you used to want to leave behind due to not being the best company. Seem to be the ones you want the most. The Swahili that you knew better than anything else?? Now foreign to your own tongue. You're sure if you saw a word you wouldn't be able to recognize it.

  
You look in the mirror. Your previous cinnamon coated skin ... Covered. Your red hair, looking blonder and blonder. And your eyes that used to want to change the world and take in the beauty. Wondering who the girl staring back at you is. You were different. And before that was a good thing. Now you look like you're just like everyone else here. And that's when it clicks in. You really are as plastic as they come. Pink eyed, awful, and at your core. The worst kind of plastic. The unintentional kind. Regina knew she was mean, she was a boss in that way. You tried bossing up, taking control, taking chances. Instead though. You weren't trying to be the boss. You were attempting to jump straight to the CEO. something you sure as hell didn't earn fairly.

  
Here's where you stand right now. You can either come clean, allow all of this to blow over in a few weeks, and become better. Or hide it, let someone else take the blame. Let someone else come between you and your own self-destruction again. Your feet hit the pavement of Northshore High's flooring as you enter Duvall's office. "I wrote it." It comes out finally. Broken and rushed. Like you're ripping off a bandage, like whatever had been there before was stuck. You look forward, trying to raise your head more. Knowing people are looking at you. 

This is your journey to being fearless. To allowing you to come back. 'cady Jane. We can fix this.' you think. Even though the real question now... Is how?

**Author's Note:**

> this was edited by my dear friend JJ, who I love more than anything else. We met in the criminal minds fandom and she really has one of the sweetest lights to her. This was crossposted onto instagram, so if you saw that there. Shush. <3


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